


Shirts

by raiyana



Series: The Reader Inserts [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr: ImaginexHobbit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-03
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-10 18:53:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11697780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiyana/pseuds/raiyana
Summary: -Imagine all the dwarves offering you one of their spare shirts to sleep in, but they all fit differently.-If you landed in Middle-Earth, what would you think of the Company?The only way I can write a GiME style story.





	1. Chapter 1

When you got past the screaming in terror – it took a while, but you were proud that you hadn’t passed out like the poor unfortunate Dwarf you’d landed on. Yes, Dwarf. You had rather given up on making sense of where you were, but these small people were definitely not _humans_. You’d landed on one who looked a bit like the very unfortunate pictures you’d once seen of your dad – complete with bowl-cut hair and decked out in knitwear. He had braids and a beard, which your 8-year-old father had not sported, but otherwise the resemblance was uncanny. At least he had provided a soft landing, your thoughts informed you, in that sort of detached way you can talk to yourself when you’re in shock. For instance, if you had landed on the bald Dwarf, your thoughts continued as you stared dumbly at the collection of – you _wished_ you could believe they were cosplayers – Dwarves, you’d probably have gotten badly hurt. On the other hand, he looked capable enough that he might have caught you, another thought piped up. You winced, rubbing your bum. As if it wasn’t bad enough that you’d landed on a Dwarf, when you missed a step on your run, they were _all_ staring at you in a way that made you feel naked. Scowling at the blonde one who was closest – with a braided _moustache_ he definitely didn’t have grounds to judge _anyone’s_ attire… though he was a bit cute – you really wished it had been autumn instead of high summer this morning. A sports bra and shorts did not seem like adequate protection against the elements when the people around you – _oh, god, look at the feet on that one!_ – were wearing several layers of clothes plus fur collars and massive boots – _except the one with the **feet** ,_ your brain wailed. Shivering, you rubbed your arms.

“Where you attacked, lass?” One of them looked like a non-Coca-Cola version of Santa Claus and smiled kindly at you. Your mouth opened and closed a few times, as you wondered whether you’d fallen and hit your head or perhaps someone had maced you with a hallucinogenic?

“You speak?” you asked, because your filter had taken a hiatus at the moment. The Dwarves frowned. You weren’t quite sure which one to watch, given that they all seemed armed – except the one with hairy feet, your brain piped up helpfully. Unfortunately, the Dwarves seemed to take offense, the bald one’s axes springing into his hands so quickly you wondered if it was magic. Taking two steps back, you bumped against someone a good bit taller than you were. A whimper escaped you. There were _Dwarves_ here… who’s to say this dream wouldn’t also have _giants_? Craning you head back, you caught sight of grey cloth, following the fabric up up up to a long grey beard and a wrinkly face that seemed oddly familiar.

“There you are!” the very tall man – made no smaller by the pointy hat and, _oh god,_ this was a bleedin' _wizard! –_ smiled at you. Oddly enough, you relaxed slightly. Frowning quizzically, the wizard – you felt more than a little hysterical by now – moved you around to face him. “What are you wearing, child?” he asked. Suddenly, something in your mind went _ding!_

“Mr. Grey?” you boggled up at him. The wizard – Mr. Grey, your erstwhile science teacher– smiled.

“They call me Gandalf, here,” he said conspiratorially. An involuntary giggle escaped you.

“Where is here?” You idly wondered why you weren’t freaking out yet, but maybe this calm was simply the one that came before an epic storm. “Who are _they_ ,” you gestured at the collected Dwarves, who were still staring at you. You felt quite sure that cheeky blonde from before had been checking out your arse.

“This is a small project I’d like your help with,” Mr. Grey intoned solemnly as if that would avert the major eruption of temper you could feel building. “I remember you being quite good at track and field, and they need a guide as I am needed elsewhere.” Wait, what?! “Here’s the map, and I see you’re wearing your compass already,” he continued blithely. You were now regretting the unbreakable habit of strapping the small compass to your person every time you left the house. “Good luck!”

You could only stand there, frozen – figuratively and soon-to-be-literally you realised as night was coming fast – while Mr. Grey – _Gandalf??_ – mounted a large horse and rode off before you could manage any protest. Whirling, you stared at the group, who were staring back even as they had begun to make camp.

You fainted.

 

 

“Think she’s dead?” Someone said, while a thick finger prodded your side.

“Nah, just overwhelmed. The wizard did say the magic stuff was taxing, Fee,” someone else replied. Your hand snapped out, catching the fingers that had been poking you. Someone drew in a surprised breath. Feeling like your captive only remained so to humour you – he felt like he could have snapped your wrist with ease – you opened your eyes in a harsh glare. The blonde smiled at you, revealing dimples. You groaned. Of course, he had dimples too, as if the hair and the eyes weren’t enough. Then you caught sight of the braided beard again and you finally lost it.

“Oy, lads, let me through,” you heard, though the Dwarf hardly managed to drown out the sound of your own laughter. More thick hands probed, but this one was obviously just checking that you didn’t have a cracked skull, so you let him do as he pleased. The laughing fit eventually subsided. “How do you feel?” the Medic Dwarf asked, his voice gruff but kind. He felt trustworthy.

“Cold,” you admitted, slightly sheepish when you realised you were still holding the blonde’s hand, making him bend awkwardly over Medic-Dwarf’s shoulder, “sleepy.” You let go of blondie, who seemed far too relieved for your self-confidence. You hadn’t been running long enough to smell, and, again, these people had definitely gone a few days or more without soap, so he couldn’t judge. You scowled in his direction again, on principle, even though he didn’t see it, having turned away to speak with the dark-haired Curly-Dwarf.

“Right,” Medic-Dwarf got to his feet, the ear trumpet falling away from an ear that seemed larger than ears rightfully should be. His grey and white beard was even more fantastically braided than blondie’s, but medic-Dwarf could carry it off, you decided, feeling lethargic. “We need to find her something to wear before she gets hypothermia,” Medic-Dwarf continued. You nodded sleepily. That sounded like a plan.

“Anyone got a spare shirt?” a new voice barked, obviously used to having its questions treated as commands. The bustling told you he was being obeyed with alacrity, as you watched bemusedly as the Dwarves rooted through packs. “A _clean_ shirt,” General-Dwarf barked, exasperated. You almost wanted to laugh again. Trying to sit up was a bad plan, you discovered, swaying dizzily. Santa-Dwarf caught your shoulder, effortlessly picking you up, which was a little impressive. He put you down on a collection of fur, which looked a lot like the cloak General-Dwarf had been wearing when you landed on Knitting-Dwarf.

A throat was cleared above your head. Looking up, you noticed Bald-Dwarf’s scowl as he held out a green shirt, a match to his own if you remembered right. Daylight was rapidly fading, making it hard to see. Smiling thankfully – it didn’t hurt to be polite, even if the Dwarf hadn’t been _scary_ – you pulled the shirt over your head. The Dwarf laughed. Looking down at yourself, you joined him with a chuckle. Not only was the shirt big enough to be considered a dress on you, but the neck opening was so wide you wondered if you could get both shoulders through it.

“Not really my size,” you admitted. The temptation was too strong, and with a small wiggle, both your arms popped out of the shirt-cum-skirt.

“Aye, yer a wee lassie,” he rumbled. You blushed, feeling underdressed beneath his stare. Straightening your spine, you returned his measuring gaze with one of your own. Bald-Dwarf laughed again. “Keep it, lassie, can’t have you walking around in your underwear.” With a shrug, Bald-Dwarf went to sit beside Santa-Dwarf, who elbowed him none-too-gently and hissed something you didn’t catch. Obviously, Santa-Dwarf was his older brother, you thought, recognizing that combination of fondness and exasperation on his face common to all older siblings.

“Maybe one of mine?” Blondie was back. You resisted the urge to blush again when he smiled at you like you were pretty. _Pretty naked, perhaps_ , your brain hissed, grabbing the blue shirt he was holding towards you. “I’m Fíli, by the way,” he said, with a slight bow. It looked so practiced you didn’t think he was mocking you.

“Y/N” you replied. He smiled, holding the bundle of fabric towards you once more. With a shrug, you pulled the shirt over your head, getting yourself tangled in the laces. Feeling overwhelmed by the events of the day, you wanted to cry, yanking at the fabric. “Hey, hey, relax,” Blondie – no, Fíli – said, and suddenly your head popped through the right opening. The shoulders were still too wide for your frame, but at least this shirt couldn’t double as a sleeved skirt. “There, all better.” He murmured. You nodded tiredly. Swaying on your feet, you yawned.

“Put her in one of the bedrolls, Fíli,” Medic-Dwarf said, passing by on his way to the fire. “I don’t like the blue tinge to her lips.”

“Yes, Óin,” Fíli acquiesced and suddenly you found yourself being carried again, until he had put you down on some sinfully warm furs, covering you with the equally warm cloak.

Your eyes closed.

 


	2. Names for new friends

Curly-Dwarf was sweet, reminding you of your younger cousin. His eager puppy face just melted your heart. Of course, he was a rascal, always pulling pranks or playing jokes, but what could you expect from a puppy? On second thought, he’d be named Puppy-Dwarf from now on.

Fussy-Dwarf was fussy, though mostly towards Ori, whose name you had only learned after accidentally hollering “Oy, Knitting-Dwarf!” at him one night in camp. Not one of your best moments, to be sure. Fíli – you remembered his name, though you never deigned to call him anything but Blondie – had laughed his head off, joined by most of the Company in short order.

Bilbo was the smallest one, and looked a bit like you’d always thought of leprechauns – minus a top hat – but you still freaked a bit(a lot) every time you looked at his feet. He avoided you, which you thought was both fair and wise after you’d one night – there had been an inn, and a lot of ale involved – asked him if this reality also believed in the ‘Big feet, big you-know-what’-trope. Scandalized had not been even close to describing the way he had stared at you in embarrassed horror, while Nori gleefully repeated your ‘innocent’ question to the rest of them. He was sneaky like that, Sneaky-Dwarf, taking his nickname and making it a personal mission to live up to your first impression of him. Secretly, he was your favourite among the troupe, though you were quite certain Bofur thought he held that spot.

Santa-Dwarf felt like a kindly but slightly distrait great uncle. You half expected him to have a bag of sweeties in his pocket for inquisitive nieces like yourself.

Dwalin – Scary-Dwarf – was far less scary than he appeared, and sometimes you were willing to go as far as to call him no more than a cuddly teddy bear with a sweet tooth. Of course, that would be the moment he’d choose to show off his ability to punch a Dwarf through a tree – surprisingly (or not) that had been Kíli – or perform some other task that showed off his bulging muscles. You liked watching, you’d found, admiring the compact strength of these bodies.

Fíli would never be any other name than Blondie – seriously, he kept checking out your arse, even if it was now concealed by a dress you though belonged at the local ren-faire – and though he had turned out to be quite cute (you were learning not to laugh at the moustache, at least. Apparently, he was very careful with his appearance) you’d still only ever call him Blondie. After all, why give up such a good tease for no good reason?

Bofur – you’d tried to get him to respond to the name lol-hat, but honestly it was a poor effort on your behalf and Bofur was so sweet he deserved to be called his real name. Besides, it annoyed Blondie no end – he spent many a night trying to get you to say Fíli, as if you were a baby learning to speak – which was never a bad thing.

Fat-Dwarf seemed a bit cruel, but ‘Epic ring-beard, dude’-Dwarf was a little too complicated. Finally, you’d settled for Food-Dwarf, and gone to help him cook stuff. By which you meant volunteering to taste test and or peel potatoes. The skinning of rabbits and whatnot, no thanks, Puppy-Dwarf could skin his own kills as far as you were concerned. Preferably far away from you, too.

Axe-Dwarf was the silent, scary type, until you’d actually spent some time with him and realised that he was a total sweetheart. That lasted roughly until the first time you saw him in battle, shrieking and bellowing in berserker rage. After that, you silently thought he might be the scariest of the lot, but by then you’d somehow managed to become friends, even if you were certain – by the sniggers coming from the rest of them – that the signs Kíli and Fíli had taught you were incredibly lewd or rude or both. Bifur was probably the most enigmatic of your new friends, but when he smiled at you, he made you feel welcomed and accepted, which was worth a lot in a world where you knew no one but these 14 travellers and an absent science teacher – wizard – called Gandalf the Grey.

Majestic-Dwarf – you’d begun with General-Dwarf, but it kinda wasn’t powerful enough to describe Thorin – glowered and glared a lot. He also ranted, mostly about elves, complained – also mostly about elves, especially their sense of hospitality – and stared majestically into the distance in way that somehow crossed the point of being spacey/creepy and reached the land of ‘I am a very important person thinking about grave and important matters. Do not disturb on pain of pain/death’. Thorin was a very intense Dwarf – apparently, he was an actual _King_ , which made sense when you thought about it.

Grumpy-Dwarf was related to Medic-Dwarf, though they looked little alike, and apparently bankrolled most of the expedition. You wondered if he’d notice if a squirrel made its home in his beard, but he was friendly enough. You’d been subjected to long – looooong – tales of his beloved wife and child, which was somewhat endearing while at the same time being completely boring. One time, you’d started to lip-synch his ‘My wife is a jewel among Dwarrowdams’- speech, and caused a four-pony pileup when Kíli fell off his saddle laughing. Nori had given you a high-five for that, something he’d taken to heart after you’d shouted ‘up top!’ at him one night and then had to explain the custom.


End file.
